


Rumors of My Death

by karrenia_rune



Category: Andromeda, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: crossovers100, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyr Anazasi fully expected to die at some point when he plunged into the Abyss; however he was determined to leave an indelible impression behind. Little did he know he would end up in the Pegasus Galaxy, alive and well, if a bit disoriented.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis belongs to MGM, Double Secret Productions and its respective producers and creators as do all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned. Andromeda belongs to Tribune Entertainment and Fireworks Productions. Neither of the above belong to me. Written for crossovers100 Prompt #30 death 

“Rumors of My Death” by Karen

In the interminable and seemingly both fast and slow stretch of time for his out of control slip fighter to come hurtling out of space, burning and glowing with re-entry into the atmosphere of as yet unidentified planet. 

Tyr Anazasi had to wonder again whether it was some kind of cosmic fate; which he had never believed in. 

Any member of his race worth his salt; carved out their own particular destiny. After all that was the epitome of what it truly meant to be a Neitzchiean. . 

Here he was; thrust into a situation where was being forced to question if it was the work of some bizarre cosmic fate or simply the laws of universal entropy that caused him to be at the helm of another severely damaged slip fighter hurtling towards either a fiery death or a smoking trail of a crash-landing far, far below. 

Either way it would soon be over; one way or another.

**

Far below where Tyr contemplated the grim realities of his possible ends the nerve center of the city of Atlantis followed the descent of the yet unidentified space craft with avid attention. The ship's design did not match any known thus far in the Pegasus Galaxy and the oddest thing about it was it appeared to be designed with the intention of holding only one pilot at a time. 

“What I don't get," remarked Colonel John Sheppard is if the Wraith are so darn numerous of late, why they would go in for something that strikes as so obviously desperate a tactic."

"I would concur," replied Elizabeth Weir. "We've seen that they do not go in for kamikaze style fighting."

Shaking her head as if to clear it the inevitable cobwebs Teyla did not reply at once but then added. "It's not the Wraith. I cannot say exactly why I am certain of that, however, I can almost certainly guarantee it."

Off to one side and to the left of the main array of consoles and blinking monitors Ronon Dex turned his head and regarded her for a moment before adding. "I figure we've been fighting the Wraith so long we immediately jumped to the conclusion that this 'attack, if it is indeed attack,' was their doing. So, who is it?"

"Ronon," replied Elizabeth with a wry grin and slight smile. "Thank you."

Just then over the city-wide communications grid Doctor Carson Beckett's quiet voice said: "Dr. Weir, I donna mean to interrupt any important business; but I've been monitoring the situation and I haveta to say that whatever else that ship and it's pilot might be; he is no shape to put up much of a fight should he even make this far."

"What are you saying, Carson," asked Elizabeth.

"The ship is badly damaged, and most it its navigational systems are off line and..." 

"What about it's weapons systems, Doctor," interrupted Cavanaugh over the momentary pause in Beckett's train of thought.

"None worthy of the name," the staff sergeant on duty answered for Beckett. 

Still muffled by distance and by static everyone gathered in the room could hear him gulp and clear and his throat before he was prepared to deliver the rather grim news.  
"As I was saying," said Carson, "I should think we should be far less concerned with the unknown ship's weapons and more worried about it’s trajectory."

"Carson!" exclaimed Dr. Rodney McKay, for the love of all that is good and decent in the universe; just spit it out already or I will!"

"According to our calculations, if it continues at its current trajectory and speed, the ship will pierce the upper atmosphere and if its not destroyed on reentry it will then  
crash into the upper towers of the city's eastern rim."

"The ship would be destroyed on contact with the force field,” said Rodney.

"Undoubtedly."

"I’ve got a very simply solution to the problem," Sheppard added. We either go up and save the ship and it's pilot or we diver its trajectory."

Elizabeth thought over the various pros and cons of doing as Colonel Sheppard suggested in her mind, as well as the possible scenarios of allowing even a small one-person spacecraft crash into the city and go up in a fiery ball of released kinetic energy. 

With the threat of an attack no longer a going concern her thoughts were now focused  
on other priorities. "Carson," she said as walking over to a open com-link with the city's infirmary. "We're going to try and rescue the ship, before it crashes into the city, in the meantime stand by two receive any casualties."

"Understood, Dr. Weir,' Beckett out." There was a muffled sound of a palm of a hand hitting the switch to cut off communications relay with the command center and a muffled sound of muted conversation as Carson issued instructions to his medical staff and then just the normal thrum of machinery and people moving about.

"John," Elizabeth said. "Take a puddle jumper and go get our 'friend' up there. If it's not already too late."

"Consider it done," replied Sheppard and turned at a rapid trot for the puddle jumper launch bay.

"Do you really think that was a good idea?" muttered Colonel Cavanaugh.

"Unless you have a better one,' replied Elizabeth evenly, "Yes, I do."

***  
By the time Sheppard strapped himself into a puddle jumper and was airborne over the city’s eastern fringe Tyr had lost consciousness so he was unable to register as the tractor beam latched onto to his own damage slip fighter and pulled out of its deadly collision course with the city’s towering spires. Perhaps if he had been conscious he might even have protested at having to be rescued but as it was; he was in no position to protest.

“I got him,” Sheppard announced to the waiting crowd back at the city. “And good thing, too because it was close to watching the guy go up in a fiery blaze of glory. We’re heading back now.”

“Acknowledged,” replied Dr. Weir. “I’ll having Dr. Beckett standing by with a medical crew.”

“Good idea; Sheppard out.”

***  
It had required the assistance of Sheppard and his own emergency medical team to extricate the injured man from his ship. And Carson did not waste time admiring its sleek lines and design; focused as he was on getting him out of it before he either died of axphisation or worse. 

Sheppard, both curious to learn more about their mysterious ‘guest’ agreed to help push the gurney out through the doors of the operations center, down the adjoining hallways and through the lift to the infirmary.

He noted in a detached sort of way that the fellow was a big, well-muscled and had clipped shorn black hair that had it been allowed to grow out would have been extremely black and curly.   
**  
In a rapid-fire monotone Carson issued instructions and rattling off observations.

“I donna know exactly what to make of it,” muttered Carson dividing part of his concentration on the blinking readouts on his medical charts and the large man sitting upright on the examination table. “If it were anyone else I have said it was impossible ye should be alive let alone awake by now.”

“Allow me to clear some of the mystery up for you. Doctor. I am Nietzchiean. Well, we’re superior to normal humans. In the length of time he had regained consciousness and could register anything at all of his immediate surroundings Tyr had been rather disconcerted to discover just how thrown for a loop he was. 

Dr. Beckett seemed a decent sort as human doctors went; but the sheer amount of unfamiliar technology that surrounded him and apparent casual familiarity with its usage displayed by Beckett and his staff indicated that somehow that there was sill a great deal more for him to learn before he made any hasty moves. 

Grateful as he was to be alive; perhaps acting with a bit more caution rather than on adrenaline and instinct would serve him better. “What was the name of the pilot who ‘retrieved’ my ship?” 

“Colonel John Sheppard.” The other man answered for himself. “And you’re welcome.”

Tyr nodded. “I am Tyr Anazasi and I owe you my life. Do not think I will forget to collect.”

“Tyr Anazasi,. Huh. If you don’t mind my saying so,” replied Sheppard flashing his own version of a devil-may-care grin. “You’re are one creepy son of a bitch. Have you ever considered trying, oh, I don’t know; maybe a ‘thank you?

Tyr considered amending his own hostile and wary tone briefly and then dismissed it. He was alive which was far more than he ever expected when he first realized that he had been driven off-course, and then was on a collision course with a city such as he had never believed possible could actually exist. 

However much they seemed to expect him to express gratitude for the save, it was simply beyond him to gush all over them; it was simply not in his nature to do so. And it might be that they simply wished to lull him into a false sense of security before shutting closed the trap. Tyr would never let down his guard, not in the past, certainly not now, or ever. Aloud he replied. “Thanks.”

“Stern bastard, aren’t you,” replied Sheppard somewhat mollified. 

“Indeed,” replied Tyr.

“Well,” interrupted Carson. “Now that’s outta the way. I still have quite a few tests to run but I haveta ask. You said something earlier, about being superior to humans? Why?”

“For one very simply reason,” replied Tyr. “I am Nietzchiean. You have never heard of my people?”

“Can’t say that I have, lad,” remarked Carson as he jotted down the name on his chart. The more he examined the big man and the more answers he received in that same clipped and precise manner it all seemed to lead to more questions. 

However, there was one thing he could be absolutely certain of, Tyr Anazasi had no genetic semblance to the Wraith, the Genini or any other species in the Pegasus Galaxy; although there were certain genetic markers in his DNA sequence that could mark his people much closer to humans from Earth or the Genini. It was a delicate situation one puzzle that Carson Becket was bound and determined to solve.

“Look, I can’t say that I’ve heard of your people either,” added Sheppard. “But it’s a big galaxy and undoubtedly we haven’t explored nearly all of it. What’s the name of your home world?”

“You are explorers?” asked Tyr with some curiosity. He had seen the technology in the infirmary although the loss of blood and his unconscious had prevented him from gleaning any impressions of the ship Sheppard had piloted or the landing area; but it was unlike anything had thus far encountered in his own solar system’ and if he were going to learn anything more about this city or its inhabitants it would serve him well to allow just a slightest lowering of his guard down. “I do not have a home world as such.”

Sheppard thought over his various response and weighed the pros and cons of how the big man who had identified himself as Tyr Anazasi would react as well as the various repercussions as far as the brass were concerned and aloud he remarked: “Sucks to be you.”

“There’s always the alternative of relocating him to the mainland,” added Carson as he raised one hand and brushed away a strand of tangled brown hair out of his eyes. “That is, once I’ve given him an official bill of health.”

Tyr chuckled and some but not all of the tension that had been building up inside of him filtered out of his tightly controlled restraint and muscles. “I shall endeavor to get that in mind, Doctor Beckett.”

“Welcome to the Pegasus Galaxy, Mr. Anazsi,” remarked Sheppard after a moment of awkward silence. “Hope you survive the experience.”


	2. Far Away Suns

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis belongs to MGM, Renaissance Pictures, Gekko Film Corp. etc. as do the characters who appear here or are mentioned; they are not mine. Andromeda and the character of Tyr Anazasi or any others mentioned belong to Tribune Entertainment and Fireworks Productions; again they are not mine. Note: This story picks up shortly after where the previous story. “Rumors of My Death” left off.

“Far Away Suns“ by Karen

 

For his part Tyr realized that after having endured hours being poked and prodded by the human doctor, Carson Beckett, who in a strange way reminded him a little of Seamus Harper, the engineer back aboard his former ship, the Andromeda Ascendant.

With a start it made Tyr realize that if he was going to make something of himself in this bold new world in which he found himself, he would have make more than just a token effort at ingratiating himself to the people in charge.

'Not that that should be too difficult," thought Tyr with a grim smile. He could turn on the charm whenever the occasion and the situation demanded it of him; and just  
as quickly could turn it off just like that. '.

He tilted his head back and put up his booted feet on the chair directly in front of him, thinking over his next move and idly watching the comings and goings of the base's personnel as they sat down, talked amongst themselves, or sat alone.

Almost fifteen minutes or more later, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard walked into the dining area accompanied by the scientist, Rodney McKay, and a slight woman with long brown hair and a dusky-skinned complexion, and rounding out the small group was a tall man with dread-locks that came to his shoulder.

At the sight of the dread locks, Tyr almost instinctively reached up to brush away his own before the gesture was abruptly halted in mid-air upon realizing that that long hair had been shorn as one of the many steps long the on a self-appointed path that would take him to see his destiny fulfilled. The next Draco Museveni and leader of the Nietzchiean people.

However, there would always be that nagging and quite avoidable irony about destiny: somehow his version of destiny did not mesh that well with the universe's idea of destiny. Granted, he was very happy to be alive rather than the alternative; but at the moment he was very much at loose ends.

*****

It had begun with a mutual understanding that each of them would naturally mistrust the others motives and actions, and from there it would then gradually move into a much more active and aggressive give and take. As Teyla would have no doubt said in that soft but determined manner which that Ronon Dex had discovered could be very effective in both diplomacy and combat; they were much like two alpha males of a pack going at it. And in the back of his mind Ronon Dex rather appreciated the comparison.

For his part Tyr welcomed the challenge. As any warrior worth his salt knew all too wall inactivity and captivity, two not remotely dissimilar events tended to have a very detrimental effect on one’s muscles, mind and instincts.

And perhaps in the course of their sparring this Ronon might even be persuaded to give up some vital piece of information regarding the humans’ mission in the Pegasus Galaxy. Another than some vague explanation he had been handed by both Sheppard and Dr. Elizabeth Weir about exploration and expanding the horizons of human scientific and cultural knowledge.

Tyr realized that they were hedging their bets; playing coy with how much information and when they doled it out to a stranger. Even one who had been quite literally yanked and cut out of his own damaged space craft.

He hated owing anyone his life, even a friend; and he very badly wanted to know more. Maybe it was his newfound drive to succeed, maybe it was the instinct to survive, maybe it was simple curiosity to discover what they were so desperately attempting to hide from newcomers.

While he could well understand they felt that the must keep classified information on a need to know basis only; he would even have done the same were their situations reversed, but the need to find out more was eating at him.

**  
Crack, thwack, crack, thwack and an occasional thud were the only sounds that punctuated the otherwise silent sparring match as wood on wood met and parte, met and parted in a span of time that neither participant cared to measure. It hardly mattered at this point. From the doorway which stood ajar both particpants were peripherally aware of John Sheppard watching the match with a wry grin plastered on his face.

 

From the first several passes both men had immediately registered his opponent as something beyond the ordinary; and if either had anticipated an easy match it would soon become quite obvious that that notion would quickly be drubbed out of them.

***

 

Interlude

Sitting on the floor drenched with the sweat of exertion both wondered if just perhaps some of the up until recently tension had a release in the mock-combat of the sparring match.

And as much as Ronon hated to admit he might just have underestimated Mr. Anaszasi; if he still could not bring himself to completely trust the big man he at least could respect his talent, strength and surprising speed for a man his size. 

Considering the other had almost met his death in a fiery ball against the eastern towers of the city it was only natural for him to be suspicious of the newcomer; the sparring match was as much his own idea to test the other’s mettle as it was a lead up to the questions he wanted to ask, and he could tell that Tyr was just as curious as about Atlantis and its residents.

“So,” said Ronon once he had deemed that he had sufficiently recovered and figured it was the appropriate time to launch into the questions he wished to ask.

Tyr nodded. “Your leaders will no doubt which to interrogate me.”

“Oh, I would not exactly term it an interrogation,” replied Ronon with a wry grin of his own. “But then I would have no way to determine what methods of ‘interrogiation’ you might have been accustomed to.”

“As an old friend once put it,” replied Tyr with as he shifted position slightly on the floor. “You would be surprised.”

“Actually, I think, and I might be entirely mistaken about this,” he trailed off and thought over his next words with care before adding. “I would hazard to guess that it would be you who has a great deal to learn about the Pegusas Galaxy.”

“And you’re the one to teach them to me?” Tyr replied with less of his usual superior sarcasm, because despite his instincts to maintain his caution, to disdain that he required assistance of any kind from these human the fact of the matter was that he did require their help.

While Tyr had managed to get a low level tech officer to show him a star map of the local cluster galaxy and to inquire in which century they were in; the answers to his questions had managed to quite startle him. Light years away from earth in the early part of the 21st century. Nothing of the universe he had left behind had ever been heard of: No Andromeda, no Nietzchieans, nothing of his old life. It had all been burnt away when his slip fighter crashed and burned in a fiery explosion.

Tyr was a survivor of long experience, and once his initial shock had subsided he could then look at his new situation in a different light. He needed more information, and he needed to cement new alliances. Thus far the people living and working on the Atlantis base seemed to be willing to do so. It would hardly be logical to spurn the first offer that came his way.

“Something like that,” replied Ronon with a grim nod and a concerted effort to not wince in pain at the aching and most likely bruising of his lower left ribs where a solid and quite powerful backhanded swing from Tyr Anazasis’s quarterstaff had was still making its presence felt.

“You recover pretty quickly for someone who nearly died. Ronon felt it was time to attempt another track of prying information out of the big man.

This Tyr fellow, judging both from observation, his own impressions of his demeanor and fighting style and from the conversation he had with Dr. Beckett realized that the man was as prickly, stubborn, and close-mouthed.

Prying information other than monosyllabic responses was going to be very difficult, but then Ronon Dex always was up for a challenge. And more importantly, he wanted to know what the man’s story was, were he came from, and Sheppard was correct., his friends and allies could always use another fighter; but it would not be easy.

At that moment John Sheppard strode all the way into the room and observed them for a bit before he added. “Nice going, fellers. When you feel up to it, I might even ask to go a round or two with you.”

“What makes you think you stand a chance, Sheppard?” was Ronon’s good-natured by slightly mocking rejoinder.

Tyr nodded. “I concur.”

“You seem to be a man of a few words,” replied Sheppard.

“When the situation warrants it.” Tyr nodded.


	3. What Color is Your Parachute?

Disclaimer" Stargate Atlantis belongs to MGM, Glasner/Wright Productions as do all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned; they are not mine. Andromeda belongs to Tribune Entertainment and Fireworks Productions; again it is not mine. Note: the story picks up shortly after where “Far Away Suns “ left off. Prompt #12 for crossovers100 and #56 abort for 100situations.

“What Color is Your Parachute?” by Karen

 

Dr. Elizabeth Weir had been reluctant to grant access to the small craft they called puddle jumpers. In a city surrounded entirely by water on all sides Tyr could not at first understand why they would designate them as such. 

For the small craft no matter how well-designed and engineered did not appear capable of conveying anyone any distance with collapsing underneath the strain of thousands of kilos of water. 

He was still puzzling over this seeming inconsistency all the while until Sheppard's  
small team with him in tow arrived at what they called puddle jumper bay.

"Whatever happened to my slip fighter?” asked Tyr.

"Do you really what to know?" was Rodney McKay's rather waspish response.

Tyr shrugged. “Not really, but I must admit to being a little curious.”

Ronon Dex glanced over the head of the much shorter man and winked. "He is just irritated that it exploded into into thousands of tiny fragments that even the most sensitive of his molecular scanners could not read. All of which means.."

"That we're wasting time."

Ronon smiled, unperturbed and continued on with the remainder of of his rejoinder. "All of which means that McKay does not wish to be reminded of the time he had an arrow lodged in his backside."

Tyr attempted to restrain himself but despite everything he burst out laughing. With one last chuckle he turned from the furiously blushing and fuming Rodney McKay to attend to Lt. Colonel John Sheppard.

"Colonel," he began. "I have been wondering, why is it that you call these," Tyr waved a hand at the array of craft stacked up one upon another in banks stretching along either side of the long narrow room.

"I can't properly answer that question, Mr. Anazasi, but since Dr. Weir decided to grant you limited to information. We can't very well leave you ignorance can we?"

"I would be most perturbed if you did."

"Well, the Ancients, the race responsible for the construction of the city and everything in it, and we've been here almost two years and still haven't figured out how everything works. However, we can reach other worlds and systems through a device known as the t Star Gate."

"I have seen the diagrams and I grateful to Dr. Weir for allowing to examine them. I suspect the reality is much more complicated and much more, moving."

“Got it it one." Sheppard grinned. 

“Are going on this mission or aren’t we?” McKay sighed dramatically. “I don’t know why we have to drag this big lug around with us, anyway. I hate babysitting assignments.”

“McKay,” Teyla quietly whispered.

“She’s right you know, Rodney.” Sheppard grinned and shrugged. “He easily could pick you up and break you in half.” Turning to face Tyr once more. “Not that you actually would. The brass frowns on that sort of thing, you know?”

Tyr shrugged again. “Of course. In fact, he reminds of another annoying but extremely brilliant young man of my previous acquaintance. And let me tell you, there were times that I wished nothing more than to pick up him and break him in half.”

“And did you,” asked Ronon curious in spite of himself.

“No.” Tyr smiled.

“No offense,” muttered Rodney.

“None taken,” Tyr replied. 

“Hey, was that a compliment?” asked McKay.

“In a sort of left-handed manner, yes,” Sheppard replied. “If that’s settled, Let’s be on our way.”

*******

 

Tyr had anticipated that going through the Gate would much akin to the experience of traveling through slipstream; and while there were definite similarities; the actual experience was nothing like anything he had ever experienced. 

Tyr could not have explained in so many words what it felt like than it seemed as if the ship with its passengers were entering a circular vortex that appeared barely large enough to hold them one moment and then massively vast enough to swallow them up in one bite. 

Emerging on the other side Tyr allowed his carefully controlled and stoic expression to slip just a little in one massive exhale. 

“Are you all right?” Teyla asked.

“I am fine,” replied Tyr.

“What’s with the protruding bones in your forearms?” Rodney asked.

“It’s a trait common to my people,” Tyr replied evenly as he pinned the shorter man with his best level gaze. “I would advise you to leave it at that.”

Rodney shook his head and mopped his sweating forehead with his free hand and then spread his hands held out in front of him in the universal gesture that meant ‘no harm, no foul, and then added: “Geez, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious.”

Tyr shrugged. “Of course.” 

McKay shook his head. “I never thought it would possible but I think we’ve at least found someone even more closely guarded than Ronon when we first discovered him on that planetoid being hunted by the Wraith.”

“What are Wraith? Tyr shouted over his shoulder as he continued to walk with the others along the overgrown trail in the thickly wooded forest.

“There’s no way you could have heard that?” Rodney remarked as he nearly stumbled over a patch of uneven ground.

“I have very good hearing,” said Tyr.

“They are the scum of the Pegasus Galaxy. Opportunistic, numerous, and go around attacking planets and their inhabitants for both conquest and for ‘well,” Sheppard shrugged. “Food.”

“Then they are cannibals.” Tyr said. There was so much about that needed to know and patience and probing would only get him so far, sooner or later it might well be that circumstances would force him to try other methods. In the meantime, he would work with what he had at hand.

“Not exactly,” Teyla replied hard put to suppress a tiny shiver that rocked her delicate frame, however the determined look in her dark eyes told a far different story. 

Tyr came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the trail which meant that Rodney caught off guard collided into him forcing an ‘oomph’ out of him. “If Elizabeth wants him to come along on our missions, and for what, I don’t know, but he’s got to know about the Wraith sooner or later. So, it might as well be now, am I right? And I know I’m right. So here goes. They attack and hunt people for their plasma or bone marrow or whatever because they use it as means of gaining sustenance to prolong their own existence.”

“You know, something Rodney said just made an impression on me,” Sheppard remarked as set the pace of the march.

“In a good way or a bad way,” Rodney asked.

“Difficult to say at this time, but we’ll know for sure when we put it to the test.”

“Damn it, Sheppard. Don’t keep me in suspense. Out with it already!” McKay demanded.

“All right, all right. Geez, Rodney, you might to consider taking a chill pill.” Sheppard shook his head and then halting in mid-stride he turned around to take a look at each member of his team. Teyla appeared calm and attentive, Rodney apprehensive but eager; which for him was quite normal; Ronon composed and stoic. 

The newest addition, Tyr Anazasi on the other hand was more difficult to read. Sheppard’s apprising gaze went from the man’s darkly closed countenance to the heavily muscled arms that he had folded across his barrel chest. And more importantly to the bone spurs that jutted out from just above where his hands connected to his wrists.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry, and I guess you might be a bit touchy about those,” Sheppard waved a hand in the general direction of Tyr’s bone spurs.

“Sheppard,” said Teyla quietly, “What are you driving at?”

“Look, I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but right now you’re here on my team on a probationary basis. That means you do what I say, when I say it, and how I say to do it.”

“Seems clear enough,” Tyr replied.

“Ah, Sheppard,” interrupted McKay, “look maybe if you’re wondering about his ah, bone spurs this might not be the best time to inquire about them. We should Carson look into them.”

“It’s just that when you brought it up just now, it struck me that you’re either gonna make a wonderful fighter or a wonderful target.”

“Either way the Wraith might be drawn to us the way the proverbial moth is drawn to the flame,” answered Tyr after a moment’s consideration. “The other matter that goes without saying, Colonel, is that you do not trust me. Nor should you until both sides have merited that trust. It’s a two-edged sword.”

“Seems clear as ditch-water to me, too,” Sheppard replied after a moment’s time to weight the pros and cons and then stuck on his hand waiting for the big man to reciprocate the gesture. 

For his part Tyr was reluctant to do so but after a moment to consider whether he should cut his losses and strike out his own on a planet in an universe he knew very little about instead his own interests might be better served by staying with Sheppard and his allies. He unfolded his arms and took the hand of the other man in his own and they shook on it.

 

Scene 3 Encounter  
They had only gone approximately two hundred years from the site of the Gate on this side and thus far had run into no signs of life. 

The landscape spread out before them in a rumpled quilt of grassy terrain and slowly rising hills. The sky overhead was a leaden grey blue in color occasionally broken by a few scudding clouds. 

“We’ve been at this for hours,” Rodney complained.. “How certain can we be that intel we got from the Genini snitch was accurate?”

“We must investigate every lead, Rodney,” sighed Teyla, even if turns out to be a false one. After all the Wraith must be defeated once and for all.”

“It’s getting dark. Maybe we should stop and make camp,” Sheppard replied.

From the direction from which they had come a silvery elongated shadow streaked overhead leaving a trail of smoke, flame and an energy con-trail in its wake. 

“What was that?” asked Tyr.

“A Wraith Dart Ship,” Sheppard replied as he pivoted around on one boot-heel and levered his energy rifle into position.

“You don’t really expect to hit a moving target in the air from an open position on the ground, do you?” Tyr asked with the air of someone discussing a battle simulation.

“I am really, really tired of the Wraith’s seemingly unpredictable ability to locate us no matter where and when we go. It’s not just uncanny, it’s down right aggravating,” Rodney griped.

The ship made several more passes over head seemingly either oblivious of their presence or looking for something else entirely. Until it assumed a hovering position a then a brilliant, blindingly white light shot down from its underbelly and when they could see once more Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard was gone.

****

The interior of the Wraith ship was akin to being enclosed in dark underground cavern.   
The dim lighting, dark, somber metallic color that seemed to sheen with a corpse-pale light of its that was not reflected from any apparent light source matched the corpse-pale skin of its crew. 

The spaces, angles and intersecting corridors appeared to have been designed to utterly confuse anyone who mistakenly stumbled in here and slowly, painfully drive them mad. 

Tyr, in his years as both a career solider and mercenary, as if they were a difference between the two; had seem a lot of alien space craft in his time: from the sleek lines deadly lines of his the Nietzchenan’ battle cruisers to the elegant silvery, angled lines of the Andromeda Ascendant and the half-hazard, massive and randomly assembled connecting behemoths that had been the Magog World-Ship; however he never seen anything quite like the Wraith mother-ship. 

“Are you certain Sheppard’s com-signal is coming from this direction, Teyla?” he asked.

“As certain as I can be of anything at this point.”

“We need to find him quickly. The commander of this vessel has a long standing grudge against Sheppard,” said Ronon as he dodged several bolts of criss-crossing laser fire that had barely missed him and would have connected had he not moved out of the way in time. Another barrage forced Ronon and the boarding party to slam up bodily against the cold metallic walls. 

“This plan will never suceed! For all we knew they might have taken his com-badge when he was captured! We might very well be walking right into a trap!” Tyr shouted to be heard over the whine of laser weapons discharging and the harsh breathing of his companions.

Ronon glanced over at him. “Do you think we haven’t already thought of that!”

Teyla sighed and flashed a small, tired but equally determined smile. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Anazasi, and trap or not we have no choice but to try and rescue Colonel Sheppard. He would do no less for any one of us.”

“And besides,” Ronon shrugged. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned by now: We do not leave any of our own behind.”

McKay looking as uncomfortable and annoyed angled his neck upward at an angle, thinking as he did so that he was uncertain in his own mind if he was angrier at the situation, at Sheppard for getting captured in the first place, or at this big lug who due to his sheer size seemed to be taking up all the available space and oxygen in the narrow alcove that was barely the size of a supply closet. “Could you be more positive,” Rodney finally exclaimed.

Tyr shook his head and restrained his own harsh rejoinder. “You just may be correct in that assertion, Dr. McKay. After all, where there is life, there is hope.”

At that moment a piercing shrill whistle cut through the air. Although it would be very n difficult for anyone who did not possess the refined hearing of a Nietzchean could not have distinguished between that sound and that of laser fire, but it sounded much like a recall signal. Tyr put a hand one Rodney’s signal and said. “Don’t fire. We seem to have been given a momentary reprieve. I suggest we make the most of it.”

McKay appeared startled as much as by the big man’s hand on his shoulder as by what had happened. “Yeah. I mean, good idea.” 

“You know something,” Rodney added as they pulled away from the alcove and back into the main corridors of the ship, on the alert for any further sign of renewed hostilities, “I might have had you figured all wrong., Mr. Anazasi. Don’t do anything to make my change my opinion again.”

“Agreed and call me Tyr.”

“Call me Rodney,”

“It’s wonderful that we’re getting along, but we need to keep moving,” Ronon remarked over his shoulder, come on, get the lead out. Teyla says we’re getting closer to finding Sheppard.”

**  
Finding Sheppard was one thing getting him out appeared to be considerably more difficult. The Wraith had locked him up in a cell that looked like nothing more than a cell that had been completely overgrown with a massive spider web. 

Seeing that, and having seen the slack, cruel, and pale faces of the Wraith, even Tyr’s studied and intense aplomb slipped just a little. On the heels of that thought, Tyr was suddenly reminded of Sheppard’s remarks on how the Wraith’s relied on and even required the bone marrow or whatever of other living beings to sustain their entire rice. The idea of that suddenly hit him and he suddenly felt a visceral chill in his bone marrow.   
Tyr realized that if any of them were going to make it out of here alive and more importantly in one piece it was too late to back out now. Tyr was many things, but a coward was not one of them. He darted one quick glance back at Rodney and the others. “Cover me, I will attempt to cut him out of there.”

So saying Tyr propped his borrowed laser weapon up against the wall flush with the bars of the cell that held Sheppard captive and using the cutting edge of his bone spurs began to sever one link of the strange organic and sticky-looking webbing one strand after another.

As he worked Tyr could not risk a look back at his Sheppard’s team but he could catch bits and pieces of a muffled conversation between Teyla and apparently the commander of the ship. He hoped they could continued to stall for time because he as fast as the strands of webbing fell away the more it seemed to cling to the soles of his boots and the fabric of his pants’ legs. 

With a suddenness that startled him more than a should Sheppard’s body feel into his arms.   
He was conscious, barely. Tyr recovered his composure sufficiently to drag the man out of the cell and a few paces away to a clear patch of flooring. Sheppard continued to stir and muttered incompressible under his breath. 

Sheppard was groggy, and angry and his mutterings may not have made much sense to anyone else, but they could be surmised to one very simple thing. He wanted to shoot, hit and or blow up something, and if that something just so happened to be the Wraith commander, all the better.

Figuring that Sheppard would not be of much use should they need to fight their way out, Tyr shrugged and heaved the smaller man over his shoulder. That done he stood up and turned around to discover what else would happen now.


	4. To the Moon and Back

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis belongs to MGM Productions, Renaissance Pictures and its respective creators and producers as do the characters who appear here or are mentioned; they are not mine. Andromeda belongs to Tribune Entertainment and Fireworks Productions. Note: The story picks up shortly after where the previous one "What Color is Your Parachute? left off."

"To the Moon and Back" by karrenia

Rodney nearly gagged at the overpowering stench that seemed to cling every square inch of the Hive ship, and hopefully no one noticed his effort to repress the urge to throw up thinking to himself as he did so, “'No one ever really becomes accustomed to the smell, I believe it is more of a case of becoming desensitized to it.'

In an effort to take his mind off of the twists and turns that his stomach was doing he watched the spikes on Tyr Anasazi's forearms. In the back of his mind Rodney thought, "Yeah, okay, so they come in handy, but really, why would anyone want to go around sporting those things?'

Meanwhile Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, Teyla, Ronon, and the other marines were engaged in a running fire fight with the Wraith crew who had taken their attempt to retrieve, rescue their captured comrades and in the midst of doing so snag a naquada generator or two, however, at this stage of the game if the newcomer knew well enough by now that unlike certain fringe members among this implacable specie; very few Wraith ever took the reasonable approach to settling problems. 

Rodney arched his back and sucked down both nausea and his own churning thoughts and went through the motions of locking, loading and firing his own weapon.

"I hate to bring this up, Sheppard," Rodney said, gasping for air when they had rounded a sharply angled corner and then dashed down a dimly lit corridor currently empty of hostiles at the moment, "But even if we do get away, how are we going to get off this ship?"

"Don't worry, so much, Rodney," Sheppard drawled. "I'll think of something."

"I would concur with Dr. McKay," added Tyr. "I do hope you have more of a plan than, shall we say, making it up as you go along."

"Oh, really," Sheppard remarked, his tone still pleasantly conversational, but this time with a hint of impatience in it. He glanced over at the bigger man and wondered, not for the first time why Tyr seemingly had only agreed to cooperate with the Atlantean team and as a condition of that cooperation agree to follow the direct order of his commanding officer, namely himself, as a matter of practicality. 

Yeah; he was pleasant enough and was quick to respond to threats both to himself and to his companions; but it might be the height, or those darn bone blades, or the fact that he was an outsider and had not quite learned how to mesh with the rest of his tea; but Mr. Anazasi just seemed to ooze a scent, and were John Sheppard to give that scent a name; that name would be arrogance. Aloud he asked. "Why would that be?"

“Because it has been my experience that employing the 'making it up as you go along, attic, is only effective approximately, thirty, forty percent of the time. Then again, the odds may be skewed by the sheer dumb luck factor," Tyr replied with a ghost of a smile flitting across his full lips. 

In the back of his mind he could not help drawing both comparisons and contrasts between his own 'little professor" who had been left behind aboard the Andromeda Ascendant and this earnest, brilliant human, Dr. Rodney McKay. On the heels of that particular thought, Tyr also realized that McKay tried too hard, and took failures too seriously; he also seemed to lack Seamus Harper's sense of humor as well. "I just thought we should come up with a better strategy, that is all."

Ronon shortened his strides and came abreast of Tyr's left flank. Both were tall men, about equal in height, although Tyr was broader in the shoulder and chest area. Ronon locked and held eye contact. "Watch your step."

"A threat?" Tyr inquired mildly, taking the implicit hint but not allowing it to show on his face or through his body language.

"A friendly warning," Ronon replied and lengthened his stride once more to resume his position at the head of the formation.

"Whatever," Rodney replied evenly, but could not quite mask the exasperated tone in his voice.

"I meant that in a general sense," replied Tyr with a shrug.

"Let me think of something," Sheppard muttered and they moved on down the hallway and over and around twists and turns.

“We should attempt to locate the control room," Teyla offered. "Perhaps there we will be able to contact Colonel Kavanaugh and the Dadeleaus." 

"Until then we won't be able to contact anyone from the base and inform them of our situation,' Rodney added.

"Good idea," Sheppard replied.  
***  
"Sheppard, do you need a ride?"

"If you're gonna my way!" Sheppard yelled back through the com-link that connected his smaller com-link with that aboard the huge ship to where he could just get a tiny glimpse through a slit that he would taken for a window had there been windows in a ship of this particular design.

The Dadeleaus floated in space and dwarfed the much small by comparison to the hive ship. 

"This is much better,

"I'm so glad you approve," interrupted Sheppard.

"How do you plan to get aboard?" Teyla asked.

“They have a transporter beam," Ronon replied.

“As someone I once knew well would say,” Tyr paused and then shrugged. "Works for me."

"Guess, you wouldn't have thought of that, huh, big guy?" Rodney replied having recovered somewhat and nudged Tyr in the ribs.

Tyr kept his expression firm and nodded. 

"What was the name of the ship you say you served on," Rodney asked.

"The Andromeda Ascendant."

"So what happened to it?" Sheppard asked in the few minute interval it took to transmit the message to Colonel Kavanuagh aboard the Dadeleaus and to receive the acknowledgement that were in range, and for buffers to lock onto all of their energy signatures. 

"I am afraid I do not know for certain,. I understand that it had been severely damaged in battle," replied Tyr and then the transporter took hold and there was no more time for discussion on the matter; however Sheppard was not yet prepared to let the matter drop.


	5. To Storm Heaven

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis belongs to MGM, Renaissance Pictures etc. as do the characters; they are not mine. Andromeda belongs to Tribune Entertainment and Fireworks Productions as do all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned; they  
are not mine. Note: written in response to the live journal community crossovers100 prompt challenge #70 storm references events from the 2nd season Coup de Etat.”

 

"To Storm Heaven" by karrenia

Upon their return Lt. Colonel John Sheppard had neither forgotten nor chosen to let the matter of more throughly questioning the newest member of his team about his background. 

For one thing, there were too many holes that one could punch in it, and for another there was just something about that smug almost arrogant reticence to reveal details about himself. 

One the one hand, he could understand such reticence. he was a stranger, someone who had almost literally crash-landed into the city's upper pylons and in a blaze of fiery contrail and nearly at the point of death. 

Tyr had definitely not planned it that way; in fact, it seemed coincidence, fate, karma; call it what you would, had conspire to bring him there at just the right moment for Sheppard to save his life.

Sheppard knew enough about the big man that Tyr had an extreme dislike of owing anyone his life; but had come to terms with it. Oh, he had simmered with resentment for several weeks while they determined what to do with him, and that he did not represent any immediate threat to the crew or the Athosian civilians living both without and within the city. 

On the other hand, after all this time, he might learn to at least be well, maybe not more cooperative, but more forthcoming, yes, that was it, forthcoming.

And, interestingly enough, Sheppard had believed that Mr. Anazasi might have more in coming with someone like Ronon Dex, his entire world if not destroyed then at least made completely uninhabitable, on the run from the incessant hunger of the Wraith and a damn good fighter. 

Instead, for reasons known to himself Tyr seemed rather taken with Dr. Rodney McKay. He had even gone so far as to admit that in some ways Rodney reminded Try of someone he had once known that he referred to as the Little Professor. 

To Sheppard's way of thinking he was not at all certain if that particular moniker was meant as an term of affection or as partially veiled insult; either way he was determined to find out all he could about Mr. Anasazi. 

This could be done in one of two ways; of course there was always the blunt direct approach; and as tempting as that was Sheppard realized that it would most likely never work; because the two of them would end up butting heads and the big man would simply close up and draw the guarded shields around himself just that much more tightly. 

John thought the matter over and decided that he could always go with the more subtle approach, and upon further consideration he chose to gone with Plan B.  
***  
“Would you mind coming to Dr. Weir’s office with for a moment?” 

From both his tone and the set of shoulders it was obvious or it should have been what Colonel John Sheppard wanted to discuss. 

Tyr shrugged and decided that one place would be just as good as another and at least Dr. Elizabeth Weir’s office had the advantage of being at the epicenter of the operations in and around the city.

Tyr was a Nietzsche, a species that in the universe he had come from had been born and bred to believe that the were genetically superior to any and all other spices. While that might true to a certain extent in his own universe; was it still a truism in this one?

The vast city and the extent of its technological wonders had been nothing short of intriguing, and he figured that if the Atlantis base personnel wished to offer him sanctuary and a place on Sheppard’s’ team, he would be more than content to utilized both the implicit trust, opportunity and time to learn everything he could about the city, the technology that he could.

That pragmatic approach had always served him well up until now, but despite his own innate reticence he was well aware that the bits and pieces of information that he has thus far doled out about his own background would not be enough for Sheppard for much longer.

He shrugged and replied. “Of course. Lead the way.”

“Sit down,” Sheppard said.

“I would rather stand,” Tyr replied.

“Suit yourself,” the other man replied with a shrug. “I assume that you know why I called you in here. And this can take as long or as short as needed, seeing as you cooperate.” Sheppard took a seat in his customary chair wondering if he should have called Elizabeth in and then chose at the last minute to have it out with Mr. Anazasi first and call the other members of the command staff if the situation warranted it.

“You wish to see if my ‘story’ checks out?” Tyr replied folding his arms across his chest having chosen to remain standing while Lt. Colonel John Sheppard chose to remain seated. Given his height, and from a standing position Tyr seemed to convey the general impression that he loomed over the shorter man; it was an impression that he had worked very hard over the years to perfect and project.

“Got it in one. You’ve never been completely straight with us, and if I were in your position I guess I don’t entirely blame you, but I need to know for my own sake as well as everyone in this city where you stand,” Sheppard said.

“Let us be candid, as you suggest, Sheppard,” replied Tyr unfolding his arms and gliding over to a nearby chair, but instead of taking a seat he instead placed his arms over the chair’s back and leaned over it. The plastic and metal molding of the chair emitted a muffled creak underneath the pressure of those big, strong hands. 

Tyr leaned forward and said: “I find myself in a difficult position, stripped out of the universe with which I am familiar, presupposing my own death as my ship is about to explode in flames around me, and I am grateful that my life was spared; I have never bee one given to easily trust others.”

“I get it, really I do,” Sheppard replied. “And it might surprise you to learn that we’re not completely unfamiliar with the existence of alternate universes etc, and that goes beyond the purely theoretical level. You’d have to ask Rodney about that, he’s the resident genius around here, but Zelenka and others do give him a run for his money on occasion.”

Tyr eased up on his grip on the back of the chair and uttered an exhalation that could have been mistaken for a chuckle. “As it should be. You did not hear me utter this, but comments such as the one you just made make me wish that the Little Professor were here to give your Dr. Rodney McKay, ‘a run for his money.”

“Who’s the “Little Professor?”

“A human of my acquaintance, a crew mate aboard a High Guard vessel, the Andromeda Ascendant, by the name of Seamus Zelanzy Harper.”

“It has struck me that you don’t have a very high regard of humans, why is that?” Sheppard asked. 

“Because I am Nietzsche an, a race, in my universe, that for the last three hundred years has been bio-engineered to superior in every way.”

“Yeah right!” Sheppard muttered with more than a little feeling and disbelief in his tone.

“Indeed, sparing you the dry recital of the events that led up to the fall of the behemoth we knew as the Commonwealth and the Long Night which preceded it, suffice it say that I was determined to make an indelible impression; that the Nietzsche race would at long last live up to ideals of our ancestral founder, Drago Musveni, and I would be the one to light the flame and keep it burning!

Tyr’s sudden rise in tone and intensity of emotional startled Sheppard so much that he rose to his feet and locked his own blue-eyed gaze with the deep sat and smoldering brown eyes of the big man. 

“Awfully ambitious of you, would you not agree? Hey, don’t get me wrong. I admire a man who has a goal and sets out to accomplish it . But a little moderation now and then to enjoy the finer things in life, wouldn’t hurt and it might keep you from burning out altogether.” Sheppard remarked.

“Hmm,” Tyr mused. “I would rather burn out than fade away, but you do make a valid point.”

Tyr had maintained his grip on the chair back and it finally gave way underneath the intense pressure. “All of which brings around to the central point, where I stand at this very moment.

“That world, that life, would seem to be utterly gone from me. You and your crew saved me when I would have gone done with my slip fighter.”

“And now…” Sheppard prodded.

“I am pragmatist, and for now, I shall stand with you Sheppard and your team. Will that satisfy you?”

Sheppard nodded. “Well, hot damn! I guess it will. Was that really so difficult?”

Tyr nodded and allowed the tiniest of grin smiles to curve his full lips. “Perhaps, in our own ways we made this ‘talk’ more difficult than it had to be. 

Sheppard’s radio head-set crackled with static and Dr. Weir’s voice came over the open channel. “John, you had best get to the Operations, we’ve got an incoming message from Major Lorne and his team, from a planet designated M1K-177.”

“What’s up?” Sheppard asked over his radio.

“Best you come see for yourself,” she replied.

 

Encountering the Gennii

“Have I mentioned lately that I don’t do well in tight, enclosed, dark spaces,” Dr. Rodney McKay nattered on as he had been doing since their arrival on the planet.

“Yes, many times,” Tyr replied.

“Would you relax, Rodney? “ Sheppard muttered under his breath. “Keep it down, will ya?“

“And you’re okay with giving them the weapons they’re asking for to fight a war?” McKay asked.

“We can’t worry about that now. Our primary objective is to located Major’s Lorne’s team and get them out of here.” Sheppard shrugged and attempted to shove McKay’s very legitimate concern to a back corner of his mind; but he was only partially successful.

McKay did not immediately reply because his stomach was turning over in knots and in an effort to keep his mind off the tight spaces of the underground tunnels had noticed something unsettling familiar stacked a niche across the way from where they presently   
stood. Atlantis uniforms, and military issue hardware. 

Tyr who had accompanied Sheppard and McKay on their raid on the Gennii weapons cache strode over to look at McKay’s discovery and shook his head. “You had best come see this, Colonel.”

“Sheppard! I think I found something!” McKay yelled. 

Sheppard managed a glare at Ladon that he tossed over his shoulder while he ran over to where McKay stood and wrinkled his noise at the reek. Sheppard had been in the military a long time but no matter how much of a veteran one was; one never really became accustomed to the stench of death. 

The two of them stood over a pile of what was only barely recognizable as the remains of Atlantis uniforms and gear, Sheppard whirled on the smug sneering face of the Gennii leader and yelled: ‘This is your idea of a promised safe conduct!”

“What do you wish me to do about it. Accidents happen. Your men simply were not careful enough and they paid for their mistakes with the ultimate sacrifice,” replied Ladon.

“Damn it! That’s not good enough!” Turning back to Rodney, Sheppard in clipped, tightly controlled tones ordered Rodney, contact the base, inform Weir that we’ll need Beckett and medical forensics by standing by the gate to come retrieve Lorne and his team ASAP. Got all that, Rodney?”

McKay nodded and staggered back several feet. “Got it.” 

Elizabeth stood nearby while Carson completed his analysis of the tattered remains of the uniforms and the genetic samples from the dog togs found on the dead bodies. She was nervous, worried and angry at how things had turned out and impatient, but rushing Carson Beckett at this point might tamper with the results and she wanted to be absolutely certain, and then she wanted to know who and why. 

“Dr. Werir,“ Beckett announced in his customary Scottish accent: “I’ve got good news, bad news and worse news.“

“Go ahead, Carson,“ she replied. 

“The good news is the bodies that John and Rodney found were wearing Major Lorne's team's uniforms and dog tags, their DNA does nay match,” Beckett replied.

“The bad news,” she prompted.

“I think it was done deliberately, and if so, they might me capable of much worse.”

“I concur, Carson. But at the moment there’s nothing we can do for them. I’m heading back to Operations. This Ladon person does not strike me as the patient sort, and I suspect he will be in contact again. 

“You canna simply hand over all ten of our puddle jumpers,” Carson asked.

“Not lightly, believe me Carson, not lightly. But he’s forcing my hand,” Weir replied.  
“He’ll call back and when he does I want to be absolutely certain we’ve got more to work with on our end to help them all.”

“Understood,,” Carson replied. “I’ll keep working at it from my end.”

“Acknowledged,” Weir replied. “Keep me posted.”

**  
Teyla and Ronon return to M1K-177, but the villagers there seem frightened and unwilling to answer questions. One, however, manages to slip Teyla a satchel containing Genii "wanted" posters of various Atlantis team members, including Lorne, Sheppard and McKay. Weir realizes that all of the people pictured possess the ATA gene — and many of them are on the raid with Sheppard.

***  
“You can’t operate the Jumpers without the ATA gene.” Sheppard remarked.

“I can by using the samples I’ve collected from your men and using the technology at my disposal I can hope to successfully reproduce the gene,” insisted Ladon, insufferably confident.

“What makes you think you’ll get away with this insane plan of yours?” Sheppard asked.

“What makes you think I won’t? the other challenged. 

Sheppard release his tight grip on the bars of his cell and turned his face away, and then upon further consideration he added. “You damn fool.”

“It would seem we have reached an impasse.” Ladon turned to his second-in-command. “Tomorrow, 0700 hours, take Sheppard and have him summarily executed. Then I want the communications array up and running to I can contact Dr. Weir again and inform that I am deadly earnestness, that unless she gives up those puddle jumpers to us one by one of all of the Atlantis people will die.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” the second replied.

“Until tomorrow morning, Colonel,” Ladon replied and turning upon his heel gave Sheppard and McKay who come up to stand to his left and directly behind him a mocking salute just before his disappeared from sight around one of the many branching corridors of the tunnel system.

“I trust you have a plan to get us out of this one?” McKay asked.

“Of course I do.” Sheppard remarked.

“Well, what is it?”

“I’ll tell you when I damn good and ready to tell you, Rodney.” 

“Oh,” Rodney shrugged and went back to sit on the floor of their cell which they shared with Lorne’s team as well. “In other words you’re making it up as you go along. I’ve heard worse ideas.”

 

**  
“Is is time, already?” Sheppard drawled. “My watch stopped at half past midnight.”

“This is no time for gallows humor Colonel Sheppard. My name is Cowen and I have come to let you out of your cell if you will in turn, assist me in making an end to Ladon Radim,” another rougher-edged but less predatory-sounding face gruffly whispered.

A man with patchy dark blondish hair punched a series of alpha-numeric codes on a keypad on the rock and metal wall just outside of their cell and the door slid open. 

Nodding in a quick assent Sheppard exchanged a series of hand signals with McKay as Lorne did likewise with his own team and everyone quickly exited the cell. 

“Thanks, I appreciate the save, but now what?”

 

“I need your help,” Cowen replied. “Stopping Ladon.”

“Worse comes to worse, my first priority is to my team,” insisted Sheppard.

“I understand,” Cowen replied. “Let’s get going.”  
***  
Even when Sheppard was in the midst of a pitched firefight, he never lost his cool, and while the old saying that the enemy of my enemy can turn out to be my friend; Lt. Colonel John Sheppard had never quite allowed himself to become entirely comfortable with that time-honored adage. 

Given the preference at being killed off one by one at the hands of lunatic petty warlord as a bargaining ship with Weir’s and Atlantis’ supply of Puddle Jumpers and siding with Cowen’s rebels was a definite plus; there just had been to be a better, easier and more efficient way to extract something better from this entire fracas and still come out on top.

Turning to the other members of his team, with the addition of Major Evan Lorne’s team who had been held prisoner here for far longer than his own, Sheppard read a similar desire to wrap this fight up as quickly as possible.

“Colonel Sheppard, Sir,” Major Lorne drawled. “There’s one thing I’ve never really understood about internecine combat.”

“One thing?” Sheppard replied as he used a brief lull in the fight to reload the stock on his own weapon.

“Yeah, why the in the name of all that’s good and decent about the universe at large, do they call it a ‘civil’ war?” Lorne shrugged and sucked in a deep breath of the stale machine-recycled air that circulated through, around and all over the Genni’s tunnels. “The’re ain’t nothing ‘civil’ about it.”

Tyr had been bringing up the rear with the remainder of Sheppard and Lorne’s team and for just a brief moment that Sheppard might have mistaken the look in the Neitzchean’s deep set brown eyes, but there was brief glimmer of a crack in that stony and impervious surface that he seemed to throw up around himself; just a touch and then it was gone again. However, Sheppard could have sworn it was there. “Major Lorne,” said Tyr.   
“I would concur with that assessment.” 

Lorne looked up at Tyr and shook his head to clear it of the inevitable cobwebs and then turned back to ask Sheppard a question which had been preying on him since he had first been introduced to Tyr. “Is he always like this?”

Sheppard nodded and then said: “Yeah, pretty much, but I think you get used to it after a while.”

*  
Conclusion

“Teach me how to fly one of those puddle jumpers,” Tyr said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“But you can’t even operate most of the more sensitive and critical systems without the ATA gene and…. McKay sputtered.

“There are those within the city both among the military and civilian personnel who lack said gene and seem to manage quite well,” Tyr replied.

“Sheppard told that Ladon guy the same thing and…Rodney trailed off before Tyr interrupted by saying: 

“Yes, I heard. We were all there. But I assumed it was a tactic,; a ploy of some kind,” said Tyr.

“Well it wasn’t and it isn’t, so there,” Rodney snapped.

“Regardless, I would like to learn and if you choose to refuse my request, Dr. McKay, then I will simply be forced to ask Major Lorne., but I believed it would be prudent to ask a member of my own team, as it were, first.” Tyr shrugged and offered a grim smile that would not have been out of place on the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

Rodney had seen a grim predatory smile on Ronon Dex’s face, but never one that appeared to give just a hint of being insufferably confident and smug, and secretly amused at itself. “I don’t have time for this! I’ve got a ton of work to do to get our newly acquired ZPMs analyzed and modified to be compatible with our own systems, and then. I’ve got diagnostics to run,.. And…Oh, fine, damn it! I’ll do it! Just so I can get you to stop hounding me! There are you satisfied or what!”

Tyr nodded. “Then we are agreed. Thank you, Dr. McKay.”

“Ten o’clock tomorrow and not an iota later, or all bets are off,” McKay replied with rather resigned but still irascible air in both his tone and manner.

“Agreed,” Tyr replied.


End file.
